


the wrong kind of coffee date

by cleopatraslibrary



Series: End Quote: A Ryan Bergara Tragedy [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Check Notes for tag, Established Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just Trying to Live Life, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mild Blood, Shane Madej Whump, dealing with grief, offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleopatraslibrary/pseuds/cleopatraslibrary
Summary: Shane goes to a coffee shop to try to focus on his work........ It doesn't go as planned.(Technically a sequel toHome.)
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: End Quote: A Ryan Bergara Tragedy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688848
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	the wrong kind of coffee date

**Author's Note:**

> <3
> 
> Warning: this could be potentially triggering to anyone who has gone through the loss of a loved one. Please be aware of your mental state before reading, and read at your own discretion. MCDs are certainly not for everyone, so please take of yourself and don't read if you find it will cause you unnecessary pain, discomfort, or squicks you.
> 
> If you are dealing with bouts of depression, whether it just be a bad day or an ongoing disturbance, try to open up to someone, especially if you're grieving. It's hard, and words are difficult to articulate, and sometimes, it just seems easier to let go, but it isn't. We are going through a strange time right now and it can be difficult, but we will prevail. And we will be stronger for it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading, my loves. Mind the tags; they are extremely relevant. 
> 
> Implied self harm tag*: the POV unconsciously tries to hurt themselves when they begin to panic.

Shane bit down hard on the inside of his lip, not really registering the pain as he stared at the blinking line in his empty word document. Someone walked past him and he shivered as a chill ran down his spine. His shirt must be hiked up his back or… something, because the shop was pretty warm.

He blinked and frowned to himself. Was it warm in the shop?

His skin wasn’t flushed at all, but the temperature didn’t really… register, or anything. Maybe he was just expecting warmth.

The shop was just fine. Not hot, not cold. 

Just…

Fine.

His eyes darted to the counter, looking across a few of the people in line. He accidentally made eye contact with a man mid-laugh, whose eyes were crinkled and brown and nose was scrunched and hair was fluffed, almost as if he’d just rolled out of bed and, _and,and_ \--

And he quickly averted his attention back to his laptop. He needed to work on a script and sitting here, doing nothing, wasn’t going to help him.

_(he’d given up on reporting funny versions of history, his mind too warped by memories of jokes, and laughter and kisses and teasing and love love love,love,love--_

_\--to write new lines of dialogue that would be incomplete without his partner there to finish his bit._

_he had always known exactly what to say to keep the take rolling.)_

Shane watched his screen, still not typing anything.

_(he should be writing about the coup in guatemala and how it was effecting policy in latin america today. nothing better than listening to a white guy recount the broken history of a war torn country caused by his country._

_he wondered where his passion, his love, went. it almost seemed like it squeezed out of him, as if his brain were an overly saturated sponge and the water dripping down the drain were all of his ideas and interests and hobbies. where was his passion? his dedication? his love--?_

oh.

_right.)_

The blinking vertical line mocked him, laughing at him. Unconsciously, he ground his teeth down harder into his flesh, trying to make himself wince. 

It didn’t work. 

He pressed his fingertips against the cool, wooden table. 

When he couldn’t tell the difference between his body temperature and the table’s, he pushed down harder.

Watched his fingertips go from pink to white.

Felt the grain of the wood begin to slice into his skin.

_(yes, yes, yes, that’s what he--)_

He inhaled sharply through his nose and pulled his hand off the table and released the tight grip his teeth had indented in his lip. He tongued the flesh lightly, trying to smooth it out. 

_(what was he thinking?_

_oh._

_that’s right. he wasn't.)_

Take a breath.

One, two. Three, four. Five, six.

Release.

Wash.

Rinse.

Repeat.

What were five things he saw around him?

A red scarf around a young girl’s neck. A blinking vertical line in an empty word document. The grey overcast sky with the sun trying fruitlessly to shine through the thick clouds. 

_(-- a ring on his left finger --)_

A dark brown table. A suit-cladded man tapping his foot as he waited in line. 

What were four sounds he heard?

Soft, tinkling giggles and then an uproarious laughter. Someone’s iPhone going off.

_(-- lonely static in a cemetery, waiting for his voice to shine through --)_

Mugs clattering against one another. The espresso machines going off in the background.

What were three things he could feel?

_(-- lips against his skin --)_

The chair against his back.

_(-- nails scratching down his back --)_

The soft cotton sleeves around his wrists.

_(-- him, all around him --)_

The tips of his fingers gripping his jeans.

What were two things he could smell?

Coffee.

_(-- his cologne --)_

His cologne.

Shane blinked, turning to look around when--

“What the fuck?”

The guy he made eye contact with before stood next to his table, sheepishly smiling at Shane. He pushed one of his hands deep into his front pocket, while the other cradled a cup of coffee.

 _(he had the same cologne as_ he _did--)_

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. 

_(his voice was nothing like_ Ryan’s _._

_thank god for small miracles.)_

“Did you need something?” Shane asked, a bit too harshly. 

The guy’s smile twisted ruefully. “I was going to try to flirt my way into getting your number, like a real charmer from American movies, but I’ll take it that you’re not interested?”

_(it was then that Shane detected the subtle accent. made sense why he didn’t sound like him --_

_it was uncanny how similar he did look to Ryan, though. his hair was a bit longer and curlier, and his nose a bit smaller, but they had similar eyes. a similar mouth.)_

Shane realized he wasn’t having too much trouble studying him. 

_(he could barely look at jake at the funeral and avoided him whenever they crossed paths.)_

It was an unnerving thought, one that had his gut coiling in guilt.

He held up his left hand, letting the ring glint in the light.

The short lived confidence seemed to leave the guy and an awkward air arose between the two. “Well, sorry for bothering you. Have a nice day.”

Shane nodded back politely.

His eyelids felt heavy, as if he’d been crying. He slumped forward in his chair.

_(he’d gotten used to the feeling.)_

He gently touched his cheeks, but neither were wet. Maybe he was just tired. Hopefully his eyes were just tired from staring at the screen.

He breathed out and flinched when a sudden rush of copper flooded his mouth, barely closing it in time before it splattered on his lips.

He sighed quietly.

What was one thing Shane could taste?

Blood.

**Author's Note:**

> thank y'all so much for reading <3 
> 
> it isn't that good and i might delete it later or make serious revisions, but i'm very tired and. yeah. don't make too great decisions when tired.
> 
> love yall <3 lexi
> 
> [come say hey on tumblr](cleopatraslibrary.tumblr.com)


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